Neverwhere II
by Pauline1
Summary: Quite simply, it carries on where we were left dangling by Neverwhere I. Where's Door ? And why is no one treating Richard like the Warrior of London below that he is ?


I do not own Neverwhere, the characters or the plot of the first book or TV series. I merely borrow from the above to create my own stories for my own amusement. Reviews welcome.

ooo

Old Bailey looked over his new camp on the roof of a decaying factory. He'd spent the best part of the afternoon putting it together, with many mutterings of 'bless me', and now he was rather proud. The birds' heads swivelled to follow his movements about the rooftop. It was a better-situated camp than his previous one at this time of year; the wind from the river blew less strongly here, and Old Bailey knew plenty about the winds you found at the top of buildings.

Eventually, his new site was ready to his satisfaction, and the birds gave it 'caws' of approval. There was, however, one last addition to be made. He reached carefully into an inside pocket, far beneath the external clothing, and produced a small once-white handkerchief. Holding it by the tips of his fingers, as if in awe of being able to even touch such an object, he tied it firmly to the rope that held one end of his tent. Now the birds had something to approve of. Old Bailey shoed away a pigeon that had sauntered over for a closer look. Nothing was going to come near the Warrior's Flag.

ooo

Richard, unaware of the fate of what had once been his third-best hankie, stumbled after the Marquis de Carabas as best he was able in the gloom. He was still not exactly sure how, or, more to the point, _when_, he had walked through a wall after a tall black man with dreadlocks, motorcycle boots and a grin that flashed whiter than the robes of a once-imprisoned angel.

All de Carabas had said was, 'coming?' and once Richard had walked through the wall, turned his back and strolled off into the dark passage. Richard's first thought was to wonder _why_ there was a passage here at all, when all it lead to was a brick wall. After that, after they'd been walking for what seemed like hours, and de Carabas had said nothing, not even a word of welcome, he couldn't help thinking that he was right back to pre-Warrior status, when de Carabas had looked at him as though he were an amusing, but slightly useless pet; rather like his aunt's canary who sat so still that for years Richard was certain it was, in fact, rather dead. It really wasn't fair that after all he had gone through, he was right back where he had come. When that wall had opened to reveal de Carabas, Richard had been overcome with happiness and relief that a mind-numbingly boring life in London Above wasn't to be his after all. Now, he felt rather let down. He hadn't exactly been _expecting_ Door to be stood there with a garland saying 'Welcome back, Warrior'; however a small welcome committee would have gone down well.

He called, 'hey wait!' to de Carabas, who paused momentarily and allowed Richard to catch up.

'I know this sounds like a bit of déja-vu,' Richard said, 'but where are we going? And where's Door?'

De Carabas turned to face Richard, his teeth flashing white in the gloom. 'Somewhere safe. For the time being. With the Angel and our friends Croup and Vandemar gone, I'm sure there will be many others just waiting to take their places as the best cutter-of throats and general doer-awayers of people. Plus, now as a full-time resident of London below, we have a _lot_ to teach you. And that can't be done without stepping on a few toes.'

De Carabas turned and started forward again, his long black coat swirling behind him. Richard was sure that de Carabas knew how good that looked. Richard was in jeans and a jumper. But even in his Upworlder clothes, he felt encouraged by the Marquis' speech - obviously he thought Richard was worth keeping safe, worth teaching, worth _bothering with. _It was only after they'd rounded yet another turn that this feeling of contentment evaporated when Richard realised de Carabas hadn't answered the second of his questions.

ooo

In the House Without Doors, a small movement - a flicker from one room to another. Here, of course, each part of the house was physically many miles distant from every other part and only those with the Talent could move from between its rooms. A drop of water fell into the Victorian swimming pool, which was actually based under a crumbling and forgotten hotel in Camden. The flicker appeared by the pool for a moment, then just as suddenly disappeared. The next flicker, although no-one was there to see it, was in a large and richly-furnished study somewhere east of Bow.

ooo

Having walked for what seemed like years, the Marquis and the Warrior finally arrived at a large black door, decorated with ornate, twining patterns. Richard was just making out a large 'S' within the pattern when it swung back to reveal a figure that would be the shape of an hourglass, if an hourglass could be made to dress in black leather then swallow a lemon dipped in battery acid.

'You are late, de Carabas. Her Ladyship is not kept waiting for dinner.' The major-domo sniffed then peered at Richard, who was tired, hungry and starting to feel that familiar feeling of confusion and cold that only being in the Underside could bring.

The Marquis inclined his head in apology. 'It was not certain at what time the Upworlder would make his re-appearance.'

The wasp-waisted major-domo opened the door and indicated with a small incline of her head that they may enter. Richard followed de Carabas into Sepentine's house, and they walked through a series of dark rooms until they came to the same dining-table as last time, on the edge of an Underground platform. Seperentine herself was seated, and stood up to greet them.

'Welcome, Warrior. Please, sit and join us for dinner.' They sat, and she continued, 'will you share with us the story of how it was you that came to slay the Beast, not Hunter? I had always been under the impression that there was none better.'

Richard felt an urge to defend Hunter, who had saved his life more times than he would like to remember. And he had saved her not at all.

'Um. I. Yes.' He explained, wishing the food had arrived so he would have an excuse for not talking. Perhaps Serpentine had arranged it so. He found himself wishing that he could remember the events clearly, wishing that events were not such cowards, staying in packs and then rushing at him simultaneously. He started again, 'It was Hunter's dream to kill the Beast. I can't really blame her for selling us out for that spear. The look in her eye as she faced it…I knew that she really only had one goal. She was just as desperate to fight it and kill it as I was to return to my normal life, then.'

'But you came back.'

'I came back.'

'And what do you hope to achieve, now you are back? You have slain the Beast, that wretched Islington is gone, as are his idiotic henchmen, and for now, London Below seems a contented place, without real need for such a great Warrior.'

The old Richard would have sat quietly, possibly fumed gently about the fact that all he had wanted to do for weeks when in London Above was to return here, now to find he wasn't wanted and might yet again be nothing more than a tolerable nuisance.

The new Richard wasn't quite like that. Not anymore. A passing Tube train made the table cloth dance, and he looked at it.

'Yes, I did kill the Beast. Hunter was there, of course she helped, but if I hadn't been there, she would have died in vain, I would never have got to Door and…well…' Richard tailed off slightly, remembering that all he _had_ done in the angel's prison was to have had his finger broken and _not_ done a huge amount of Door-saving. But he had got the key from the Black Friars, which had been the…well…key to sending Croup, Vandemar and their employer to somewhere hard and fast away.

He looked up again. 'Look, I saved Door in the first place. I got the key, which no-one else had done. I helped Hunter to kill the Beast, which wasn't exactly a _Secret-Seven_-style 'Lets Skim Stones in The Pond' day out; and I still chose it all over a life Above. There's still plenty to be done here. I know I have a lot to learn, but I do have a habit of turning up in the right place at the right time. I can help down here. The last thing Door said to me was that there's till plenty to be done – Croup and Vandemar mentioned that her sister was still alive, and if I know that girl's determination she won't stop until she's found her. And she wants to carry on her father's work in uniting the Underside…'

Serpentine cut him off with a short, harsh laugh. 'Oh, silly Portico. Life Below isn't easy, you know. The currency we use is barter, allegiance and threats. If you take that away, if we're all…' she chose the word delicately, '_friends_, then what have we left? Favours only go so far. And you never know when you might be sold out by one of your _friends_…or indeed your bodyguard.' There was a pause, and no-one spoke of Hunter. Serpentine continued, 'no, London Below is too ancient, too scattered, to ever become united. I admired Portico, I understood what he was trying to do. But, in the end, it got him killed,' she finished sadly.

There was a moment of silence before Richard spoke. 'Where is Door, exactly?'

ooo

The Market was out on the eastern docks tonight – an open-air market to which the Sewer people would be allowed to come. Dunnikin was pleased that tonight was Market night as they had fished a particularly shiny piece of metal from their underground river. He supposed that to some it would be beautiful, but to him it represented new nets to string across their patch of murky water, or perhaps a slightly less tattered robe for his wife. He'd kept it securely on him all day and now they made their preparations to go to Market.

ooo

The flicker paused for a moment in the study in Bow. It seemed that it didn't want to stay there long – the study being one of the few rooms that The House Without Doors currently shared by another family - but needed to satisfy itself first. The shadow paused by a desk, there was a soft click and the then the flicker moved rapidly around the desk, flowing in and out of drawers before disappearing south with what can only be described as decisiveness.

ooo

'Hello,' Richard asked the small and scruffy child who had just pushed past him in the dim passage.

'Wotcher want?'

'Where's Market tonight?'

'Docks. Open air. Mind yer get there first, them Sewer Folk put up a helluva stink.'

With that, the child ran off and merged with the shadows and in the gloom Richard saw the Marquis' teeth flash white.

'Very good. Not that hard, now was it?'

'But I still don't understand how you _know_. I mean, who decides?'

The Marquis stopped. 'Have you ever thrown a really big party?' Richard hadn't, apart the engagement party he'd had for Jessica. Which had been mostly her friends, and Garry. So not a big party as such.

'Well, put it this way,' de Carabas continued, 'say you'd organised a big bash, and invited a certain number of people. Those you'd invited are likely to turn up, which is a good thing or a bad thing depending on who they are. Now those you'd invited are always going to bring along "just one friend". Word gets out. That's the same with the Market. People talk.'

"But who organises it in the first place?" Richard persisted.

The Marquis sighed. "You don't really understand, do you? Listen, no-one decides. The Underside isn't the same as Above. This is outlaw territory – there are no police, no authorities, no rules. You make your own way. Word just gets out about the Market, and I guess when enough people want to come then Market is held.'

'But I'm the Warrior!' Richard found himself nearly shouting, frustration welling up inside him. 'I just want to find Door and help her get back to her sister, and to try to do some sort of ordering down here. If I went through everything I did, and it's not going to help me now, then…well…what the hell did I come back for? Where's Door?'

The Marquis looked at him with a faintly amused smile, well aware that this was going to annoy Richard.

'One has to admire your spirit. The first step is to get you safe to Market, and there we can begin your…noble quest. You need to start getting an idea of who will help you and who will hurt you, quite possibly in one of several painful ways.'

'Don't tell me. There's very few of the first and an awful lot of the second.'

The Marquis' face was a perfect study of "You do learn fast."

A swish of a black cape and they set off into the darkness.

ooo

Once out of the House Without Doors, the flicker felt horribly vulnerable, recognisable now as she was. It was a risk, she knew, leaving the House but riskier still to carry on alone. She needed help, and although she was loathe to seek de Carabas and ask him for a favour, he was the only one who could help.

She knew that he'd be at Market – whether she'd be able to find him and stay hidden, stay safe, was another matter. A third matter was that he's refuse to help her, being so much is his debt already, but as her father had once said, she had to trust him. There was only one option.

ooo

The urchin had been right – the Sewer Folk _did_ put up an awful stink, one that invaded your nose like an unwelcome party guest and also totally outstayed its welcome. It was all Richard could do to stop himself reeling backwards one they'd rounded the last dark warehouse, its smashed windows gaping like missing teeth. The smell was bad enough, but there was something _else_ in the air, a something that Richard couldn't quite place. He's known London below for long enough to trust his instincts; however he'd also known the Marquis long enough to know that to bother him with 'there's something odd out tonight' would result in another patronising stare and a condescending smirk. Richard fought with his emotions for a moment, before deciding that keeping a sharp eye out for anything sharp would be his best bet. He was also desperately hoping that Door would be at Market tonight.

ooo

She knew she'd been here, recently too. As to where she was now and how she'd go about reaching her, that would take some figuring out. But at the moment her overriding emotion was one of pure joy, tinged with just a little fear. If she knew that she was still alive, then who else knew it too?

And try as she might, she was still cross with Richard for having chosen his old life over her. He'd always spoken about his life Above in such a bored, exasperated way that she felt sure he'd never go back. The first time she'd met a real friend, not just someone who'd been paid or threatened to look after her, but someone who'd _wanted_ to. And just like everyone else in her life recently, he'd gone.

She pulled herself together and reminded herself that she was Lord Portico's eldest daughter, now armed with the happy though that she might well not be his _only_ living daughter.

ooo

Richard, the Warrior, the Slayer of the Beast of London Below, was buying curry. Or rather, trying to convey to the woman who appeared to be able to communicate only through the sock on her hand, that he would like two portions of the violently green stuff that was trying to creep out of its pot.

'My Tube map? Surely you'd have no use for that?' Richard was about to say, before he remembered the different value that residents of Below put on things.

'My Tube map? Surely that's worth two curries _and_ four popadums.' He opened up the map, pointing to the pretty colours and clever symbols showing which stops connected you to Main Line Stations.

The sock shook its head. Clearly its wearer did have some idea of what a free Tube map was worth.

'Two curries. Two popadums.'

The sock nodded and held a bowl into which the other hand ladled some green curry. Or possibly, thought Richard, it might be curried green. He realised he's giggled out loud and that the ladling had stopped and that the sock was watching him curiously, head tipped to one side. It shook its head once and returned to its task. Richard sighed. Door would have found that funny.


End file.
